A Cold Haunting Of Memories
by Eternal Love Song
Summary: Loki and Sif comfort each other after having nightmares. [Post-Infinity War, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares]


It was cold. Sif opened her in the middle of a shiver and tossed off a half frozen blanket. The air in the room was frigid, so cold that she could see her breath, and her hands quickly went to work rubbing up and down her arms trying to infuse warmth.

There was a time, after Thor's failed coronation, when she awoke to every chill violently. Memories of Jotunheim haunted her dreams, frozen friends and black limbs, the sight of a charging beast and the fear of the Bifrost never coming. So often she would wake with weapon in hand, having grabbed it in her sleep to defend against an enemy that was never present.

Now the cold still meant nightmares, only this time they were not her own.

Tentatively, she reached a hand out to the other side of the bed. It was cold, but it wasn't wet. The ice hadn't had time to melt.

Loki," she called out softly. It was dark in the room, but she'd given herself enough time for her eyes to adjust. She could hear him breathing, haltingly and far too rapidly. He was panicking, always panicking.

She got to her feet. He wasn't at the corner of the room. That was a popular retreat in the beginning, trying to move as far away from her as possible. Hiding from her. His first instinct was always to hide from her.

She took a few steps toward the middle of the room as she searched for him, surprised to see him huddled on the floor beside the bed. She let out a breath, relieved that he hadn't decided to leave the room all together. She didn't approach him. Instead, she stayed where she was and raised her voice, hoping he'd look at her. "Loki?"

Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned his head toward her. Her breath caught once more at the sight of him, red eyes, still hard to get used to when she'd spent her entire life seeing green. His skin wasn't blue, though. He was stuck in some defensive in between stage, intimidating but approachable. Good.

His eyes searched over her a few times. Not seeing her at first (what was he seeing) before finally resting on her face. "Sif... Did I wake you?" He frowned, seeming to realize that he'd asked the wrong question but not yet sure how to fix it.

She debated on whether or not to correct him, whether to assuage his worries and telling him that he hadn't hurt him, but clarity would not be a boon just now. What she needed to do was to calm him, pry his hand from his own throat, and get them back into a warm bed.

Sif moved to her knees, putting herself on his level. "Can I come over there?" She asked.

"It's no good," he told her. He shook his head, trying to shake the memories, memories he rarely shared with her, but haunted him all the same. She was sometimes haunted by memories too, but her body didn't react as violently as his did.

She inched closer, holding out her hand. "Loki. Can I have that hand? You're going to... you'll hurt yourself."

His hand pressed tighter to his neck, then wrenched violently away, causing his whole body to shiver. He closed his eyes, he must not have liked what he saw there before he opened them promptly and his gaze was haunted when he looked back at her. Slowly, he held his arms out to her, uncertainly in his features.

She only moved close enough to grasp his hands. "Talk to me."

"I thought that I was... choking," he admitted. It was a constant nightmare of his. A too big hand around his throat, fear in Thor's eyes, ruins around him. He had told her about his last moments and how they haunted him. (So many things haunted him.) He'd learned to live with the rest, though. He learned to look at the stars without seeing black holes and void, learned to stop hating the color blue, but he had yet to figure out how to stop feeling a hand on his throat.

Sif could understand. She hadn't stopped feeling the ship exploding underneath her, breaking down around her. She still flinched at the color purple if she saw it out the corner of her eye.

"Let's go to my room," She told him. "We'll turn on the lights and sit in front of the mirror."

It was something that helped them both. Being able to see everything around them, having light enough that they could never mistake their surrounds for space.

Loki nodded, slowly. He was more slow to move, but eventually he did get to his feet. "I'm sorry," he told her.

She pulled him closer to her and he came, slowly but without hesitation. "I know, Loki, I know."

She wanted to hug him, wanted to wrap him in her embrace and assure him that everything was fine, but holding him only made him feel trapped. She didn't want to do that to him, even if it would comfort her to be able to do so.

Hesitantly, he stepped close enough to lean his forehead on her shoulder. Their bodies weren't touching and their hands were clasped between them. He was shaking, his breath was still shuddering, but he was here. They were both here. There was no purple light racing around her, no fire blazing at the edges of her vision. No screams.

Sif squeezed his hands tighter. "Talk to me," she said again. Not for him, this time, for her.

"We are on Midgard," he said slowly. "Thor is alive and he is king. There is ground beneath our feet that shall not tear away and the stars are far from us. The sun will rise and we will be able to watch it warmth the world around us." He was clinging to her, but his voice was steady, calming, weaving a truthful tale meant to soothe and calm them both. "We are alive and safe," his voice faltered on the last bit, but he said. And he said it again a few more times. "Alive and safe. You are alive and you are safe. Thor is alive and safe. I am..." He swallowed thickly and she felt the tears as they began to fall onto her.

"Loki is alive and safe," She finished for him.

"Yes," he said in chocked voice. "Yes..."

"Let's go to my room," she said one more. He nodded against her and this time, they both loved toward the door.


End file.
